


Motel Operation

by JantoJones



Series: Stand-alone Two (The 2nd 100) [20]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: Illya has a hand-off in a motel





	Motel Operation

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the terrible title. I just couldn't think of anything better.

After retrieving a suitcase from his trunk, the man strode from his hired car to the motel reception, resisting the urge to look around. His natural instinct was to check he hadn’t been followed but, if there was someone looking out for him, the action would have given him away. Even to an innocent bystander, glancing around would have made him appear furtive. It took only a matter of minutes for him to pick up the key for his pre-booked room. It had been specifically chosen because of the door which connected it to the next room along.

As he entered the room, Illya Kuryakin caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and momentarily forgot that he was wearing a disguise. He had to stop himself from reaching for his weapon and shooting the dark-haired, green eyed, and moustachioed ‘intruder’. Dropping the suitcase, Illya made a sweep of the room in search of surveillance devices. Although none were found, he knew better than assume the room was clear. Any sounds he made had to what would be expected. Illya had to be very careful to look, and sound, like any other businessman who was bedding down for the night. 

Glancing at his watch, he unlocked the connecting door, without opening it, before settling down to watch TV until the appointed time. Patience was a virtue he possessed, and the forty minutes he had to wait would hardly be difficult.

At the appointed time, 10:35 pm, Illya got up and stood in front of the connecting door. A few seconds later it was opened from the other side and he looked into the face of a man he knew. Illya had been given no information about who he would be passing the package to, only that he would know him. Even so, the only thing he recognised about the dishevelled man in front of him was the mole on his jaw and his pinky ring. With the blue contact lenses, greasy hair, and ill-fitting suit, very few people would know him to be Napoleon Solo.

They nodded to each other but neither man said a word. Illya reached into his jacket, pulled out a train ticket, and handed it over. Napoleon accepted it and carefully slotted it into his wallet. After giving Illya thumbs up, and a wink, he closed the door and Illya locked it.

Although he had concluded his part in the operation, the Russian was not yet able to leave the motel. The ticket he had given Napoleon had the security plans for a highly sensitive Thrush scientific conference hidden within it. The precautions being taken were a little more than necessary, but Waverly believed in ‘better safe than sorry’. They couldn’t allow Thrush to get wind of the fact their gathering was compromised.

In order to keep up the pretence, both Illya and Napoleon had to wait until morning before checking out. Kuryakin was to leave around 7:30am and take at least ten hours to get back to New York. He figured that Napoleon would have been given a different time so that they would not be seen together. With nothing else for him to do, Illya got comfortable on the bed and settled down to sleep.

Back at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, Mr Waverly ticked off the hand-over on his schedule. He had no way of knowing if it had even taken place, as strict radio silence was in operation, but he was certain that it will have done. The silence was only to be broken if anything went wrong and he had heard nothing thus far.

At 11:45am the following morning, Napoleon Solo arrived back without any problems and, two days later, several Thrush scientists were in the hands of U.N.C.L.E.


End file.
